


no matter how many times you drift you still have to say i love you

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Like literally just after the film ends, M/M, Post PR1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They have a lot to talk about.





	no matter how many times you drift you still have to say i love you

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from directors commentary of pr1, apparently. i haven't actually listened to it
> 
> hi i haven't written pacific rim before, so if i mischaracterised (gottlieb is hard as shit for me to write, actually, so i wouldn't be surprised if something is a bit off) let me know! i saw this movie like two weeks ago so i'm late to the party. this is just something short i wanted to write for fun...because i am gay

After it's over – after they claw their way out of each-other's minds, after Newt pushes Tendo out the way and screams his throat raw into the microphone, after Hermann _swears_ he feels the Earth shift, just slightly as the Breach finally, _finally_ closes – after Mako and Raleigh, somehow, both survive – after Newt throws his arms round Hermann and he feels _his_ Earth shift – after all of this, they have a lot to talk about.  
  
(After the two day long investigation of-sorts that they put Newt and Hermann through, of course – they're covered in Kaiju bits that not even Newt can pinpoint the exact origins of, and they _did_ drift with a Kaiju brain, they're reminded – they have to scrub themselves raw in the showers and be poked and prodded with needles. The doctors take samples and through it all Newt just wants to sleep, and sleep – but this, too, they go through together.  
  
The ghost-drifting is _weird_ – Newt likens it to having a map of the other person's brain, knowing and feelings things only their mind does – it's so weird. Newt finds out Hermann hates needles through it because he can feel the anxiety spiking off of him in the bed to his left as their blood is being taken, and Newt reaches over to squeeze Hermann's hand and thinks _it's okay_ instead of saying it _,_ and Hermann's anxiety lessens, just slightly.)

 

–

 

“So,” Newt says. They're back in their lab - the breach has been closed for four days, so they don't have any work to do any-more, _technically,_ so they've been cleaning up and enjoying the quiet after the chaos of the last week – but Newt knows Hermann has been discussing the probability of the breach re-opening with the higher ups (those that are left,) but he's not privy to the details.  
  
He assumes the chance is pretty slim, though, because Hermann looks the most relaxed Newt has probably ever seen him, leaning forward on his chair as he picks at whatever is in the clear box he's holding - a salad, or something. Newt isn't sure – it's green. It's probably salad. He knows Hermann's favourite is chicken Caesar salad now.  
  
Hermann has been in his mind – Newt knows this, and the intimacy of it makes him blush. He saw – well, probably everything, considering what Newt saw of _his –_ a father who didn't know how to love him, an overwhelming sense to do – something, _something_ , and despite the fear at home in his belly - the hope and belief that the Hong Kong shatterdome, for better or for worse, was _it_. And then Newt, Newt, Newt, he's there too – only ink on a page at first, and then real and solid, needling and loud, obnoxious, _on his nerves_ – but fondness bleeds itself in slowly, fondness for Newt's eyes and his smile and his screech of a voice find a home in Hermann's heart. Newt felt it – feels it, too, for Hermann, and he thinks – _wow, we need to talk about this._ So that's what he's trying to do – sitting on a table in their lab, insides knotting despite what he knows – his feelings are reciprocated, but-

 

“So,” Hermann parrots back at him after a moment. “So?”  
  
“We need to like,” Newt gestures non-committally with his hands. “Talk about this. _Us_.” He raises his eyebrows dramatically as he says it and Hermann sighs, but it isn't tired – he places his lunch down on his desk and links his hands together, staring down at them.  
  
“Yes, I suppose we do,” Hermann agrees. “I – wanted to approach this subject myself, but I wasn't – sure. How to.” He's biting his bottom lip, and Newt's heart aches with fondness at the gesture – he think it's cute. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks down at his feet, hanging off the edge of the table – they don't reach the ground, because he's short. It's fine.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Newt tries to continue. “I mean – I don't know. I guess there's not much to – talk about, is there? I mean. I assume you, saw similar to what I did in the breach, so.” Newt swallows. “It's not like our feelings are like, a secret or whatever, dude.”

 

“Hm,” Hermann hums softly, and rises to his feet and reaches for his cane in the same instant to move across the room to sit next to Newton. It's such a casual thing, to see Hermann Gottlieb haul himself onto a shitty metal table to sit next to him, and unlike Newt his feet do reach the ground – it makes Newt grin.  
  
“Hi,” Newt laughs. He feels – fond, and floaty, and happy.  
  
“Hello,” Hermann replies, his lips turning upwards in a nervous smile. “So, how is it you feel?”  
  
“Huh?” Newt gapes, caught off guard.  
  
“How do you feel,” Hermann asks again, “about me? About – us – as you put it?”  
  
“I mean!” Newt exclaims, his right hand nervously rising to scratch the back of his head – his hair is a mess, he thinks half-heartedly. Fucking breaches. “You know! You saw, didn't you? Right?”  
  
“I saw,” Hermann chooses his words carefully, like he's chewing on them before he speaks. “I saw – fondness, perhaps, during our written exchanges – and annoyance, but – a longing, too.” He swallows, “for me. That I assume still exists, otherwise this conversation loses its point.”  
  
“Pretty much,” Newt murmurs, but Hermann shakes his head fondly at him, stifling a laugh. “What!”

 

“I just,” Hermann reaches out to place his right hand over Newt's left. “I want to hear you say it.”  
  
“Oh,” Newt breathes out, shakily. “Um, okay. Well like – I think, I'm like – probably in love with you, at this point, and like – drifting didn't make me realise it, but it made me realise I probably should have – said it, already. I guess. But maybe since, we're like – connected now or whatever, I don't have to? I don't know,” Newt rambles on nervously. “It's – been a thing for a while now. I don't know. Years. Maybe I shouldn't have said love. But that's, like – how I feel, so.” Newt wrings his hands.  
  
“I'm not going to start to chastise you over lost time,” Hermann tells him, bringing Newt's hand that he has clasped in his own up to his mouth to softly kiss the knuckle – Newt's face reddens. “Because I could have – and, evidently _should_ have – said something earlier, too. I'm sure you saw that – despite the way you _insist_ on getting on my nerves, and that is a habit you are probably never going to break – I feel the same too. I do – love you. Timing be damned, whether this is too early, or too late.” Hermann's voice is calm and steady, but his face is red.  
  
“Oh,” Newt says, and then, “no shit?” Hermann laughs, softly, and the tension in the air dissipates as they're both doubled over holding hands. Newt wipes a tear from his eye after a few minutes, still dissolving into small giggles when he looks back over at Hermann next to him, his eyes crinkling at their corners. He's smiling – it's good. Newt feels good, and whole, and right, and he feels Hermann's contentedness coming off of him in waves. 

 

\--

 

“You know,” Newt says in his own room later in the week, Hermann holding him in his arms in front of the glow of the TV. They were half watching a movie, or something, Newt can't really remember – he's half asleep.   
  
“I can kind of like, feel how you're feeling because of the drift. Like, I can feel it coming off you.”

 

“Hm,” Hermann hums sleepily into his hair. “It's not unheard of. And?”  
  
“Well, like,” Newt tries to articulate his point by waving his hands around. “Do I still have to say I love you, or like, can you feel it?”  
  
“I can tell,” Hermann replies, opening his eyes to look down at Newt. “I would – prefer if you still said it.”  
  
“I love you,” Newton says, and it feels like – breathing, like coming home, like warmth and safety and an overwhelming sense of belonging.

 

“I love you too,” Hermann tells him, leans down to press his mouth to Newt's. _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , they both think, and feel, and they don't need to say it – but they do any ways.

 


End file.
